


War Paint

by conteur_reveur



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, For a Friend, Gen, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Purple Hawke, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 06:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16341878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conteur_reveur/pseuds/conteur_reveur
Summary: Carver Hawke takes up a family tradition.





	War Paint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DragonoftheMidwest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonoftheMidwest/gifts).



Carver Hawke burned the letter telling him his sister, Marian, was gone. He had always had a short temper, and a mean streak. It never occurred to him that he have any regrets about his actions until he faced their consequences. It was just as the parchment crumbled to ash that he turned back to see if he could retrieve it.

She had sacrificed herself in the Fade for a  _ Grey Warden. _

If she had known the absurd stupidity of it… 

Marian Hawke had judgement so bad that it bordered on obscene, and luck so good it bordered on divine intervention. Even if she knew being a Warden was a death sentence she probably still would have done it. It would have seemed like contrition for the things she considered her failures. 

Carver had been told a few times that he didn't take responsibility for anything. Conversely, Marian took responsibility for  _ everything _ . Maybe that was why he never felt like he had to. She would take care of it. 

She would make up for being a mage by being the best at it. She would keep her siblings out if trouble. She would find a way to take care of the family when their father died. She would continue their sister's magic lessons. She would get them out of Ferelden during the Blight. Kill the dying Templar so his wife didn't have to. Take the blame for their sister's death. Find them work. Reclaim their family’s estate. Earn their family's wealth back. Find a way to escape a Deep Roads tomb.  _ Make him a Grey Warden. _

Would she have offered to stay behind if he wasn't a Warden? If Anders hadn't been one? 

He couldn't stop thinking of the ridiculous war paint she began wearing as a mercenary. A mark had left a gash on her arm, and rather than healing it she'd swiped some of her blood across her face and then set him ablaze. The next day she'd run to Lirene’s Ferelden Imports and bought a pot of red kaddis paint. 

“Ash Warriors use it to mark their hounds in battle, it's quite clever. The smell of the kaddis identifies a friend, and then,” she ran her knife across her palm and let her blood mix with the red paint, “the scent of the blood identifies you and your hound as extensions of one another.”

“And how do you know that,” Carver had asked.

“Bethany and I healed a few in Lothering a day or two before you returned home from Ostagar,” she said with a grin. “We had all that elfroot in father's garden. It just seemed the thing to do.”

“Right.  _ Elfroot, _ ” he had answered disapprovingly.

She wore the paint across her arm and face so often that it existed as a permanent stain. Their mother had hated it. It was like a final assertion that Marian was never going to become her civilized noblelady. 

He was sure Marian had worn the paint at Adamant. The dog had been gone for years, but the paint had become a part of her. It seemed as if the ritual drove her entire will to fight. If she was already bleeding she didn't bother with the paint. He wondered sometimes if seeing the red in her periphery reminded his forever-joking sister to be ferocious.

* * *

 

When Carver started to wear the kaddis a few people had asked questions. Usually he responded with a surly grunt. When he was very drunk he would talk about the Ash Warriors. 

The next time he found himself in Kirkwall it drew notice. Some approached him expecting a sense of camaraderie that Carver didn't offer. When people whispered or avoided him he stared them down in a challenge no one seemed willing to accept. 

Merrill had looked at him in shock and said, “Carver, I hadn't realized you and Hawke looked so alike!” Then she covered her mouth and cried.

Aveline had held a hand up, nearly resting it on his cheek, but then squeezing his arm instead. “It suits you.”

They both let it drop quickly. Gamlen’s eyes had lingered briefly, but he made no comment. No one else who had ever meant anything to him was still in the city. It was something of a relief not to be mocked by Varric and Isabela for still following his sister’s lead after all this time

* * *

 

Carver threw up at the gates of Adamant Fortress. He had volunteered for this. He wondered now what he was looking for. Some sense of closure? Some trace of her? It felt foolish, and sentimental now. They had never truly gotten along, but now he had taken up carrying her ghost around.

“Are you alright, Ser Warden?” someone asked.

Carver vomited again, trying to wave them off. The sound of their voice had sent a wave of ice through him. A spiked gauntlet held a handkerchief out to him. Carver's head snapped up to look at them. 

“Carver!” she said in surprise.

He backed away. “I'm losing my mind…”

“Can you lose what you never had?” she quipped.

“Marian, you're dead!” he shouted.

She considered that for a moment and shrugged. “You know, I don't think I'm afraid of spiders anymore. Not wild about isolation, though…”

“How is it possible that you're alive?” Carver wasn't sure if he was shouting or whispering.

“I killed a spider the size of a high dragon. After that I got my bearings and figured out how to ask for directions. Then I figured out how to follow them,” she answered casually. “Carver?”

“You asked for directions?” he was incredulous.

“Carver, did you hurt yourself?” she asked.

“What? No,” he snapped dismissively. “How in the Maker’s name did you ask for directions?”

“I'm personable. What's on your face?” she asked holding his chin still for a second.

Marian Hawke erupted into a fit of laughter as she wrapped her little brother in a tight hug. 

“I can't wait to tell Varric you did that,” she whispered.

Carver tightened his grip around his sister and replied, “I can't believe you're so obnoxious that even the Void itself spat you back out.” 

 


End file.
